


Lead the Way

by lellabeth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Actor/Fan AU, Clint is just a fan of Phil, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, Meet-cute sort of?, Phil's an actor in a bad sci-fi show, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4069393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lellabeth/pseuds/lellabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first tweet he sent to Phil started as a joke. He’d seen #ThisIsYourCommanderSpeaking trending on Twitter and had his heart skip a beat when Phil’s black and white avatar popped up announcing that he was hosting a Q&A. Clint’s hands had been so clammy he had to re-type his question four times to get rid of all the typos.</p><p>When will we get a shirtless Commander scene? he’d tweeted, then immediately regretted. He thought about deleting it but figured the most it’d get was a few favorites from other Commander Ryan fans and that’d be the end of it.</p><p>And then he’d checked his phone to find 132 mentions, and almost had a heart attack when he saw Phil Coulson had replied to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lead the Way

This is Clint’s first con. He’s surrounded on all sides by crowds of people in costumes he doesn’t recognize. His ears are aching from the overstimulation of his hearing aids amplifying the already-loud space. The person behind him has some sort of staff that’s digging him in the back of the ankle every two seconds, and there’s a general smell of unwashed laundry permeating the air all around.

Clint can’t stop smiling.

His fingers drift to his pocket, clutching on to the special pass granting him access to a meet and greet. He’s careful not to clutch it too hard, but he can’t help the twitch of his fingers as he thinks about actually seeing Phil Coulson.

In real life, up close. 

Holy  _shit._

Clint isn’t a sci-fi fan. He doesn’t like Trek or Wars, isn’t interested in hitchhikers or a world made of discs unless they’re all full of classic rock. Clint doesn’t even really like  _Nova Noir_  - the writing is pretty shitty and Clint will never forgive the half-painted backdrop he saw in the second episode - but what Clint does like, undoubtedly, is Commander Ryan. 

He saw nothing more than a glimpse of the man on a billboard he was driving past before he was in love. Commander Ryan is fierce and unforgiving, leading his ship across space and time to fight injustice and wage war on outlaws everywhere. Clint wouldn’t know if that’s true or not, seeing as he spends most of the episodes clutching a pillow to his face so he doesn’t  _actually_  squeal when Phil’s character steps on screen. 

He doesn’t need a repeat of the Icegate episode where Commander Ryan took a band of seven aliens down with just his bare fists. Clint had screamed so loud that Kate from the apartment next door came banging in and saw him practically melting over his television.

Clint doesn’t even know what he finds so appealing about Phil, really. He’s become something of a fan favorite, sure, but that’s mostly for his acting and livetweeting of the show. There’s a whole sub-section of the Nova Noir fanbase dedicated to Phil which has adopted the show’s sign-off of  _lead the way, Commander_  as their motto. Even there, though, there is little ever said about Phil’s looks (Clint knows. He’s checked the tumblr tags). He supposes that Phil isn’t anything special, really - but even thinking that feels like a betrayal, because Phil’s special in a way not many men are, and that makes him even more precious. Phil is handsome but not showy, built but not brawny. His hairline is receding and the show’s costume department clearly doesn’t know how to dress him, but Clint pays that no mind. He saw the pictures of Phil at a celebrity hockey match and knows that underneath all that polyester, Phil is  _hot._

It’s not just that, though. Clint’s never been good at reading, but even he can read the kindness drawn deep into the lines of Phil’s face, can spot the laughter in the crinkles of his eyes. Clint thinks he could live with some of that kindness in his life.

The first tweet he sent to Phil started as a joke. He’d seen #ThisIsYourCommanderSpeaking trending on Twitter and had his heart skip a beat when Phil’s black and white avatar popped up announcing that he was hosting a Q&A. Clint’s hands had been so clammy he had to re-type his question four times to get rid of all the typos.

 _When will we get a shirtless Commander scene?_  he’d tweeted, then immediately regretted. He thought about deleting it but figured the most it’d get was a few favorites from other Commander Ryan fans and that’d be the end of it.

And then he’d checked his phone to find 132 mentions, and almost had a heart attack when he saw Phil Coulson had replied to him.

 _For the good of all our eyes, hopefully never_.

Clint had spent long minutes rubbing his thumb over his phone screen, feeling somehow connected through the threads of the internet and to the man beyond.

Since then, he’s sent in a question to every Q&A Phil’s done. They’re often questions only loosely related to the show, mostly linking to other shows and movies Phil’s worked on or the charity projects he knows Phil supports. Phil is always polite and respectful but edging at something deeper, some dark sense of humor he’s too self-aware of to let out.

When Clint had seen the tweet listing Phil as a guest at the con, he’d known he had to go. It seemed silly, but Phil’s little tweets and funny pictures were some of the highlights of Clint’s day. Clint wanted to meet him, maybe thank him for being so wonderful if it wasn’t too awkward. 

So here he stands, in a small queue full of people dressed as the ship’s crew. He can tell by the banners they hold that they’re here to see the actress who plays Captain Bartlett - Commander Ryan’s plucky but earnest apprentice. As Clint gets closer to the front of the line, he can see the way the space between Phil and the fans seems like miles, how they all take a single picture with him before peppering his co-star with questions. 

Phil is wearing a plaid shirt and dark jeans and thick black glasses that somehow make his eyes look even more blue. All that is second to the fact that he’s sitting slightly hunched behind the little table, looking for all the world like he’s firmly on the sidelines of things.

“Hey, I’m here to see Phil Coulson,” he says to the runner who’s overseeing everything, gesturing toward the empty floor. The guy barely glances at the space ahead before he’s waving him forward into the empty circle around Phil’s spot.

Clint’s heart is beating so fast his pulse is thudding in his throat. “Hi,” he says when he reaches Phil’s table, holding out an old picture of Phil’s only starring movie role for him to sign.

Except Phil doesn’t take it.

He just stares at Clint for a second, brows pushed together, before suddenly his whole expression clears like a dawn breaking and those eye crinkles are on full display.

“Hawkeye?”

Clint blinks. “Sorry?”

“Your Twitter handle? Hawkeye, right?”

Clint blinks again, because  _what?_  “Uh, yeah. Yes, I mean. That’s me.”

If Phil’s smile was big before, he’s positively  _beaming_  now. “I always look out for your questions during the Q&As. It’s so good to see you here,” Phil says, like he means it, like seeing Clint is actually important to him. It makes something in Clint’s chest feel tight.

“Oh, uh, thanks? I’m glad you like them. I know they’re kinda dumb or whatever usually, but--”

“No! No, they’re not at all stupid. It’s nice to be asked about something other than when I’m going to get involved in an on-screen romance,” Phil says, a wry note to his voice. 

“Well, I’m not actually a big fan of the show, so I probably won’t be asking about that anytime soon.”

Phil’s hand freezes where it’s clutching a marker. 

Clint has to resist the urge to facepalm. Did he really just admit to Phil Coulson, lead fucking star of Nova Noir, that he doesn’t like the show?

“You don’t like Nova?” Phil asks. He doesn’t sound angry, just confused, like he’s trying to find answers and can’t get one to fit.

“I mean, it’s okay? But it’s not really my favorite or anything. Dog Cops is way better.”

Aw, mouth,  _no._  

Phil makes a soft huffing noise that Clint thinks would be a laugh from anyone else. “Dog Cops  _is_  very good.”

Clint swallows. 

“So if you don’t like the show, how come you’re here?”

Clint looks down at Phil’s hands, at the fragile bones of his fingers, the delicate curve of his wrist. “You just.. you’re kind of awesome, you know that? You post these great pictures every morning that I look at while I’m drinking my coffee, and it makes having to ride the subway into work suck a little bit less. You always reply to people who talk to you, even when they’re not saying anything much at all, and it makes me think you actually care about your fans and I guess I like thinking that, that you might care like that. And you do all this charity work with kids in foster care and I... I know what that means to someone in their position, so, yeah. You just make my day better. You’re... nice. Really nice.”

Clint’s cheeks are on  _fire_ and his mouth is so dry, and Phil’s staring up at him with his mouth kind of open, and this could not have gone any worse if Clint had tried. He doesn’t expect to feel so disappointed, but it’s undeniably painful when it comes.

“I’m sorry. I’ll just, yeah,” he babbles, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. He turns around and walks away from the table and out of the little foyer section into the crowd. Everything is kind of blurry and he’s not crying, he’s not, it’s just that he’s completely crushed right now. 

When he feels a sharp pull on his shoulder, he spins around, ready to rip shreds off whoever’s invading his personal space this time.

He does not expect to see Phil Coulson.

Phil Coulson, teeth digging into his bottom lip hard enough that it’s fully white, hands twisting together in front of his body. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“So that was kind of weird back there, huh?”

Clint’s eyes are stinging and his ears really hurt, and he is not in the mood to be made fun of by anyone, not even Phil. He starts to turn away again but then there’s a hand on his arm.

“Kind of weird but kind of definitely the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Phil says, so softly Clint can barely hear him over the crowd.

“Oh,” Clint croaks.

“I really make your day better?” Phil asks, hand still gently gripping Clint’s forearm. His eyes are flitting between Clint’s, like he’s looking for more than just words.

“Every day so far,” Clint replies quietly, shrugging.

Phil takes a deep breath. “You make those crappy Q&As better.”

“I do?”

“Ever since the first one. Your picture was so cute and you asked about me being shirtless and it felt like the first time I’d laughed that entire week.”

“You thought my picture was cute?”

Phil’s thumb strokes his skin, just lightly. “Not as cute as real-life-you, but pretty close.”

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming this,” Clint says, and he doesn’t even care if he sounds ridiculous because he honestly means it.

“I’m pretty sure none of your dreams involve this much roleplay.”

“Only the ones that have you in them.”

Phil stares for a second while Clint curses his complete lack of filter again, but before he can apologize, Phil bursts into laughter.

“Good to know,” he tells Clint once he’s calmed down, eyes sparking with something that makes Clint’s heart feel twice its usual size. “So, I’m done for the next few hours now.”

Clint licks his lips. “Yeah?”

“I have all the episodes of Dog Cops on my tablet, if you wanted to watch a show you actually enjoy.”

Clint takes a deep breath, because he wasn’t kidding when he said he’d dreamed about something like this. “That sounds amazing.”

Phil smiles at him again and it makes Clint brave. He shifts his arm until he and Phil are palm-to-palm, not caring who sees them. There is a spark of something electric beating right under his skin, a promise of good things ahead. 

“Lead the way.”


End file.
